


10th Circle of Dante's Inferno

by Hoodoo



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Beetlejuice is gross, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Golden shower, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Lines from the musical, Movie strip club, Oral Sex, PWP without Porn, Prostitute, Sex, Shameless, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, paying for sex, standing arrangment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 05:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21094391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: This is the service Betelguese pays extra for in the back rooms of Dante's Inferno Strip Club.





	10th Circle of Dante's Inferno

**Author's Note:**

> Listening to the Beetlejuice musical soundtrack on repeat, one line jumped out at me and, lo! This story was born.

He writhed against the ties on his wrists and ankles, but not too much. There’s too much shifting on the mattress for him to fight against the restraints in earnest, especially because you don’t hesitate to scratch long red welts along his sides with your fingernails as you first get to your knees, then your feet. 

The marks you make on him stand out sharply on his fish-belly pale skin. He hissed at the slight pain, but you heard the pleasure deep within it. 

The--ghost? Demon? You don’t know exactly what he is, and don’t actually care--_your client_ completely gave up pulling on the shackles. He didn’t really want to get free anyway. It was just a show, something he thought you’d expect. As you stand over him, your feet planted on the mattress on either side of his chest just under his outstretched arms, his attention was riveted between your legs. 

“Babe--” he whinged. 

You clucked your tongue at him. He knew you didn’t like whining.

Still, you’d deliberately tied him up so he had very little control over the situation, and you’d already teased him by stroking his cock with enough precision to make him arch off the mattress in a way that shouldn’t be physically possible. He was aroused and desperate and not the most patient being in the Netherworld, and that made him whine again.

“Come on baby, I’m not paying to you string me along so much--”

Leaning down enough to catch his chin in your black and white striped gloved hand--he had a _thing_ for stripes--you forced his head back and up so he was looking you in the face instead of staring at your pussy.

“Betelgeuse,” you said, in warning.

Knowing that you saying his name three times would bring bouncers in to drag him out despite any state of undress he happened to be in, his demeanor immediately morphed from petulant to apologetic. 

“I’m sorry-I’m sorry babe, this is good, I’ll be good. Promise! Cross my heart and hope to die! Again!”

During his apology he slipped a hand out of a shackle and made an exaggerated ‘X’ over the left side of his chest. He couldn’t help copping a quick feel up the inside of your thigh, even as you scowled and slapped his hand away.

Grinning, he wiggled his hand back into its restraint.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. So much for being ‘tied down and submissive’.

Straightening back up, you chewed on your covered fingertip for a moment, thinking about how to bring this session back around. Below you, Betelgeuse’s eyes focused between your legs again.

Making a sudden decision, you dropped to a crouch atop him. You didn’t sit directly on his chest, however. 

“You’re adventurous, right? Okay with something new, Beej?” you asked.

Reluctantly, he raised his gaze back to yours and narrowed them. “I’m not paying extra.”

“Nope!” you agreed. 

Under you, he consented with a nod. The quick lick he gave his lips in anticipation told you he was more excited about whatever you had in mind than he wanted to admit. 

Cupping his chin again, you looked him straight in the eye and said, “Pee where you want,” before letting loose and pissing directly on his chest. 

Betelguese writhed again, but in more unbridled arousal than with thoughts of escape behind it. He reveled in the warm spray, his eyes once again locked on your groin, and his groans were interspersed with encouraging dirty talk. 

“Fuck--fuck yeah, baby! Oh shit, did you drink a gallon of water or what? Oh _fuuuck--”_

You hadn’t had extra to drink before he showed up and this decision was just spur of the moment, so you emptied your bladder quickly. Just as you finished, you put his mouth to better use than his seemingly non-stop talking: you rotated forward, put your knees on either side of his head, and dropped your pussy onto him.

From between your thighs came a muffled, “Easy, babe!” before Betelguese opened his mouth and gave you a wide nip.

You gasped and grabbed his hair. 

_“You_ be easy,” you ordered, “or you’ll lose part of your tongue!”

Betelgeuse mumbled something inteligible before setting to work in a much more polite manner. He may have rotten teeth and a tongue that was cold as the grave, but you never kissed him and he at least he was eager and willing to eat pussy.

He went at it with abandon, focusing more on your clit than slipping his tongue into you, but that was expected. You ground down on him, moaning, one hand still threaded into his hair and the other with a white-knuckled grip on the headboard. He didn’t need air, so you didn’t worry about giving him a break, just as he didn’t give you that consideration when he wanted a blowjob instead of letting you be ‘in control’. 

In short order, you were cleaned of residual piss and on the brink of an orgasm. You glanced down and found him looking up at you, and with his final, hard bit of suction on your clit, you came.

It took you several moments to able to move off his mouth, during which he continued to lick you. That was both pleasurable and unhelpful. 

Finally you eased your way back down his torso, through the now chily piss still beaded on his chest. He didn’t have to ask for what he wanted next; you reached behind you to grab his cock and adjust it so you could raise yourself up and find the right spot to sink him into you.

“Hey-hey--be careful with my dick, watch the teeth!” Betelguese exclaimed in mild alarm, but you knew, and with a bit of resistance you lowered yourself onto him.

His concern melted to a drawn-out groan of pleasure, and you fucked him vigorously, your movements shaking the bed. For the third time he writhed and it was more spirited this time, actively pulling on his restraints and bridging his core to give you something to work against to keep that glorious friction escalating. When his mouth wasn’t occupied he was a noisy lay; lots of dirty praise and suggestions, demands of fucking him harder, observations of how tight and wet and dangerous your pussy was, spilled from his mouth, all interspersed with moans and gasps.

You gasped and groaned too. Another orgasm of your own doing was building inside you, and if you could string him along a little more you’d reap the reward of it--

With an opened-mouthed howl, Betelguese slipped free of the wrist shackles once again, grabbed the tops of your thighs with pinching grips to hold you steady, arched more sharply into you and came. The position pushed his pubic bone to just the right spot on your clit and you came too, involuntarily dropping a hand to his chest to keep yourself upright.

When he relaxed, you relaxed, and you settled atop him, laying prone on his chest. Loosening the grip you still had in his hair, your fingers came away with a greenish clump of it. You apologized, but he brushed it off.

“I’ll never miss it,” he told you, and you believed him. His hair was a rat’s nest anyway.

After a moment of catching your breath, you slipped to his side and sat up. Maneuvering to reach his ankles, you opened the cuffs to free him while saying, 

“If you’re not going to stay in the cuffs, there’s _no point_ in using the cuffs.”

Betelgeuse sat up too, slipping his hand between your legs, through the wet that had dripped from you. “It’s a fun _idea,”_ he countered.

“Is it?” 

A finger, then two, brushed your pussy and dipped inside. It felt good, but he’d only paid for an hour and time was almost up. With a warning, you nipped him.

He jerked his hand away with a yelp.“You and your vagina dentata . . .” he grumbled, but a grin crossed his face. 

“That’s why you pay me the big bucks,” you teased. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

He threw his legs over the side of the mattress and stood up. 

“You want to clean yourself up?” you asked. “Bathroom’s through there.”

“Eh?” he replied. “What for?”

“For the whole--” you gestured to the urine that was mostly dried on his skin. “--you know. Being drenched in piss.”

“Eh,” he replied again dismissively, as an answer instead of a question. “That’s part of the whole being dead thing, isn’t it?”

You laughed aloud. You should have known better anyway. Betelegeuse was your client because he liked the fact not many other spirits requested you--some kind of faux exclusiveness, you supposed--due to your extra set of teeth down below, and no other girl wanted to service him due to his reputation of never bathing. 

You were kind of made for each other. 

“Same time next week, babe?” he asked while he shimmied back into his clothing.

“I’m available when you are.”

He flashed you a green-toothed grin, and was out the door.

_fin!_


End file.
